


To Have and to Hold, and to Let Go

by theangryuniverse



Series: The Senator and His Concubine [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, But it is not a major character, Concubine Katsuki Yuuri, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, References to Illness, Romanesque, Senator Victor Nikiforov, Someone dies, intersex omega, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryuniverse/pseuds/theangryuniverse
Summary: The garden is Victor’s place of refuge, for he sits under the tree they planted in the year of their wedding even after the sun has set, and the servants have brought out torches to illuminate the way. Yuuri finds him there at night, fireflies surrounding the man he loves, as if trying to give him comfort with their presence alone.As Victor struggles to let go of the past, he searches for repentance, and almost falls apart.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: The Senator and His Concubine [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698856
Comments: 36
Kudos: 307





	To Have and to Hold, and to Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lorelai_walker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorelai_walker/gifts).



> I swear to God, please read the tags.  
> There will be a death in this chapter. Because it is not a major character, I did not use the archive warning. Please don't come @ me in the comments.
> 
> Other than that... pls grab your tissues.

**To Have and To Hold, and to Let Go**

* * *

All heads turn as Victor Nikiforov arrives, and hanging on his arm is the most beautiful concubine.

The flowers are in full bloom on this summer day, but their beauty pales in contrast to the young omega at the senator’s side. And truly, he is a sight to behold. Dressed in midnight blue and hung with gold and jewels the omega walks with him, his hair as dark as the night, ornamented with pearls. The hem of his dress swirls around the most delicate pair of ankles, and those who dare to look closer can see the gentle swell of the omega’s belly, the clear indicator of his delicate condition.

The senator smiles and greets those that come his way, well-acquainted with everyone and a welcome guest at every gathering hosted in the golden city of Petersburg. And truly, a day like this is meant for a gathering in the gardens of this palace-like place, with the flowers in full bloom and the sun bathing the magnificence of the capital in its golden light. His greetings are returned with equal politeness, followed by curious glances thrown at the omega on his arm, and a question by the senator that makes clear where he stands.

“Have you already met my darling Yuuri?”, Victor Nikiforov asks and smiles down at his concubine, who responds with a smile and a soft-spoken “how do you do.”

It is what Yuuri has learnt, and what he does best. All his life, he has been meant to be seen and not heard. Of course, life at Victor’s side is very different, especially in the rather peculiar social standing that is a concubine. But Victor never asks of him to be more, or to do more, but is entirely content with Yuuri the way he is.

That alone is an incredibly tender gesture of affection, and Yuuri has given him his heart for it.

It continues like that to whomever they turn, Victor greeting the people like friends and then introducing his concubine in the very same breath. Most of the people greet Yuuri with the politeness that he deserves, but neither Yuuri nor Victor miss the way they study him, and how their gaze lingers on the omega’s bare throat that lacks the choker that would indicate his status as a slave. It is always followed by slightly widened eyes, and in them appears the realisation that the omega before them is not beneath them – that he is a free citizen, and to be treated with respect.

No, it is not the fact that Senator Nikiforov has come with his concubine instead of his wife that unsettles the society of Petersburg – it is the fact that the concubine used to be a slave, and has climbed the social ladder, and has therefore broken the unspoken taboo.

But the senator looks at the omega with utter adoration in his eyes, and no one dares to speak up.

“Ah. The man of the hour.”

A woman with red hair descends the stairs and approaches the couple, greeting the man that is like a brother to her with a kiss to the cheek. “How lovely of you to come, dearest Senator Nikiforov.”

Victor laughs. “But Mila, I am never a senator to you,” he says. “To your husband, maybe.”

“Oh, don’t mention him,” Mila says and shakes her head before looking at the omega on Victor’s arm. “And this is?”

Yuuri meets her gaze. Of course, she knows who he is, for she has heard the gossip like everyone else in Petersburg, but is far too polite to let it show.

“Have you met my darling Yuuri?” Victor asks with undeniable pride in his voice, his arm coming around Yuuri’s waist and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“How do you do,” Yuuri says softly and bows his head in greeting, his hand instinctively coming to rest on his belly, protecting the new life that he carries.

Mila smiles at him, and she does not judge. “Dear Victor and I grew up together, you must know,” she says. “And now, my husband and Victor are both members of the senate. Who would have thought that silly Vitya would grow up to be a statesman?”

“I am not so silly anymore,” Victor protests. “I am a sensible human being, am I not, Yuuri?”

Yuuri gives his beloved a soft smile. “Certainly not when we are playing Tria,” he says, making Victor gasp and Mila laugh.

“Oh, you deserve him, Victor!” She says. “And I see that congratulations are in order, too.” She glances down at his belly, and Victor gives Yuuri’s hip a gentle squeeze. “You must be very happy.”

“We are over the moon,” Victor assures her and presses a tender kiss to Yuuri’s hair. “Are we not, dearest?”

Yuuri gives a gentle nod, looking down at his belly, where their child grows. Indeed, he is the most happy. It had only been a question of time, neither of them being too concerned about using protection – and truth be told, protection fails often enough. And then, the day had come, far earlier than they had thought.

But Yuuri could not be happier, and gently caresses the swell of his belly.

“Ah, another arrival!” Mila sighs as she spots the next guests coming through the gates. “Please, feel free to rest in the rooms of my home at any time, dear Yuuri. Your condition is not to be taken lightly!”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says with another small bow of his head, but the woman has already moved on to greet the next guests, leaving him in the hands of his beloved again.

“I am not silly when we are playing Tria,” Victor murmurs as he takes his concubine away from the patio and towards the large parasol that offers protection from the sun.

“You are, sometimes,” Yuuri says softly as he holds onto his arm. “When you are losing.”

“Yuuuuri!” Victor sighs dramatically and leads him to one of the cushioned chairs, not letting go of his hand until the omega sits comfortably. “Not only beautiful, but also brutally honest. But how is the little one? Are you feeling well? It is so terribly warm today.”

Yuuri smiles at his lover, cupping his belly. Victor is always considerate, always attentive when it comes to him. Even more so now, with the life growing inside him, already so dearly loved. “I’m fine,” he says. “Only a little thirsty.”

Victor nods and turns around, beckoning one of the servants over. “What would you like to drink, darling? Perhaps some water with fruit? You there, bring us some cold water with peaches. And a plate with grapes.”

“Victor, I don’t need grapes,” Yuuri protests softly, but the servant has already run off to do as he is told.

Victor kisses his hands. “Just in case you get hungry. I would hate for you to feel faint in this weather, especially in your delicate condition.”

Yuuri huffs. “I am with child, not ill,” he says, but he understands that Victor only means well – and he knows that all alphas are prone to worrying excessively when their partner is carrying a child. It is in their nature.

The servant returns with their drinks and a bowl of grapes, and Yuuri thanks him with a smile. The servant is irritated, clearly not used to being thanked, but he bows his head once more before he walks away.

“You have a kind heart,” Victor says and kisses Yuuri’s temple.

“So do you,” Yuuri says. “You can go and mingle with the important people here.”

“Are you sure?” Victor asks. “I do not want to leave you alone.”

“I will be fine,” Yuuri replies patiently. “And besides, I want to close my eyes for a while. You would only keep kissing me and distract me.”

“Could you possibly blame me for wanting to kiss my beloved?” Victor sighs and gets up – but not without pressing another kiss to Yuuri’s temple. Only then does he leave his side and joins the other guests for important conversations – always the popular statesman.

Yuuri sighs and gently cups his belly, letting his eyes wander. It is a beautiful day, the sun bathing the garden in a warm, golden light. When evening comes, candles and lanterns will light up the night, and everything will become even more beautiful. Only a year ago, Yuuri thinks, he would have never gotten to see such a place from this perspective. He would have been here as a dancer, perhaps, but never as a guest. He would not get to sit on a cushioned chair, drink water with peaches, and eat from a plate of grapes. He would not have a man like Victor at his side, who loved him and cherished him.

But his life has changed so drastically that Yuuri sometimes struggles to believe that all of this is real.

He knows that his presence at the party tonight was not planned. Gatherings like these are highly official, and although Victor had wanted to take him with him before, Yuuri had always found a way to stay home, afraid of facing Petersburg’s wealthy and powerful elite. Victor’s wife Evgenia had been supposed to come with him tonight, but she had claimed to not feel well.

And Victor had only needed to look at Yuuri pleadingly to convince him to come along.

That does not mean that Yuuri feels comfortable with going out just yet – especially not now, with the child that he carries, the clear proof that he is having what Evgenia has always been denied for some reason. But he is here because Victor asked him to support him, and Yuuri has not had the heart to say no.

After a while, Mila joins him with a drink in her hand, sitting down on the other chair with a sigh. “Are you enjoying our little gathering?” She asks.

Yuuri greets her with a polite smile. “I am,” he says. “I have never been to a garden party before.”

“I prefer them over feasts,” Mila tells him and takes a sip from her wine. “At feasts, you have to sit in one place for the whole evening, and you can barely escape a boring conversational partner. But a garden party offers so much freedom, would you not agree?”

“I honestly would not know,” Yuuri says softly. “I have never been to a feast either.”

Mila frowns. “Does Victor not take you out? That sounds very much unlike him. I thought he would proudly show you off.”

“Oh, he wants to,” Yuuri says. “But I never felt quite ready to… face the public. I only ever went to a private gathering at Senator Giacometti’s estate.”

Much to his surprise, Mila does not laugh it off. Instead, she looks rather thoughtful all of a sudden, as if contemplating about what he has just said.

“That reminds me of my engagement period,” she says. “When I was a bride, I was entering society for the first time. My, what a scary time it was. I was only fifteen and did not know what to do when a man I was not related to looked at me, let alone spoke to me! One time, I got lost in my uncle’s mansion, and a pair of brothers came to my rescue. My mother had always warned me, you must know, that young men always have ill intentions. But these two were lovely gentlemen, and they escorted me back to the main hall and, aware of what the people would say if I were to be seen with them, quietly left me there. My mother had not even noticed that I was gone.” Mila chuckled and shook her head. “That night I was introduced to the man I was going to marry. He’s the one over there,” she says, gesturing at a man in his late thirties near the fountain, talking animatedly with a few important looking older men. “He’s a good man. A little boring, but he treats me well. That is more important than a handsome face, or wit. Although wit and a pretty appearance surely never hurt. You do know best, don’t you?” She smiles knowingly at him. “Victor is quite the good match. Anyone would be happy to have him. Many must be jealous of you.”

Yuuri shifts on his seat. “I… I don’t know,” he admits. “I…”

“Don’t worry,” Mila says immediately and leans forward to touch his hand. “I did not mean to upset you. It was meant as a compliment. You have found a wonderful man in him. And from what I can see, he has found a wonderful companion in you. I have never seen Victor so happy. So at ease.”

She turns her head and Yuuri follows her gaze through the garden to the fountain where Victor stands, chatting with Chris, who has sadly come without Phichit, it seems.

“When they were candidates for the senate, they used to charm their way into every party,” Mila tells him with a knowing smile. “My husband had them thrown out at one point, when they were so drunk that Victor started hugging every statue and Chris was about to shove a carafe up his—”

“Mila!” A man appears at her side, gasping in fake embarrassment. “You should not upset him with the scandalous details of this delinquent.”

Mila laughs and pats the spot beside her. “Oh come on, Georgi. Yuuri, have you met dear Georgi yet? Victor’s cousin?”

The face is faintly familiar, and Yuuri realises that he has seen the man before, but not at the banquet that had become the turning point of his life. No, he has met him before that, in a very different situation – to be looked at by him before being booked for entertaining Victor’s guests.

Georgi Popovich looks just the same now, the shape of his nose and eyes indicating that he’s one of Victor’s relatives, but other than that, Yuuri finds that they do not share many features. Where Yuuri would find softness in Victor’s face, there is sharpness in the face before him, but it does not make him look unfriendly. No, not even when Yuuri had first met him had Georgi Popovich appeared unkind to him.

He now looks at Yuuri with unconcealed interest and curiosity, taking in his appearance, from the gown and jewels he wears to the gentle swell of his belly.

“We have met, yes,” Georgi says and inclines his head politely. “People claim to have been surprised when they heard that Victor had taken a former dancer as his concubine. I was not. My cousin has always had a weakness for the beautiful things in life. He was smitten with you the moment he saw you dance. I can understand why. He is a very happy man now.”

Yuuri has expected many things, but certainly not that. “You are very kind, Sir,” he says and bows his head.

“Only a fool would doubt that his love for you is genuine,” Georgi continues and sighs. “I myself have been in love, too, many times. But my beloved rejects me.”

Mila rolls her eyes. “Georgi is in love with a married woman,” she tells Yuuri. “A woman that will never accept your advances, Georgi.”

“But if she only realised what a horrible man her husband is!” Georgi cries and throws his hands in the air. “I would treat her like a queen if she only were mine!”

“Her husband is here today, and I would very much prefer it if you would not cause a scene,” Mila says in a warning tone and shakes her head when she meets Yuuri’s gaze. “This family has a tendency to be awfully dramatic. Victor is not any better.”

Yuuri laughs, thinking of the many times Victor has been over-emotional and sighing like a dying stage actress. “Not at all, no.”

“You only say such things because you have never been in love, Mila!” Georgi huffs and grabs a drink from the table beside them.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic now.” Mila gives the back of his head a playful slap before she rises to go and greet the guests that have just arrived, and Georgi follows her with a sigh.

Yuuri leans back and watches the people wander through the gardens, Victor somewhere among them, most likely in deep, terribly important conversations. Their child is surprisingly calm today, Yuuri thinks as he gently strokes his belly, not like during the previous night when he had barely been able to sleep. The tiredness sits heavy in his bones, and he wonders if he should close his eyes, just for a while…

He opens them again when he feels someone take a seat beside him, expecting it to be Victor. But instead, it is Chris, smiling at him warmly.

“I have not had the chance to say hello yet,” he says. “Did dear Victor abandon you here?”

“Hello, Chris,” Yuuri says softly and sits up a little. “No, he is just making his rounds. I do not mind.”

“You seem tired,” Chris remarks. “Is everything alright?”

“I just did not get to sleep much last night,” Yuuri says, and Chris begins to grin mischievously. “It’s not like that!” Yuuri says quickly and blushes. “The child was so active, I could hardly sleep.”

“Ah,” Chris says and takes a sip from his cup. “Yes, I know it well. Phichit did not sleep well last night either. Chati has a cough.”

“Oh no,” Yuuri says worriedly, clasping his hands on his lap. “Is he alright?”

“The doctor is convinced it is just a regular cough,” Chris assures him. “Nonetheless, Phichit refuses to leave his side.”

“Yes, of course…” Yuuri says with a nod, relieved that it seems to be nothing serious. “I shall pray for your son nonetheless. No child should ever be ill.”

Chris bows his head. “You are truly too kind, dear Yuuri. I will tell Phichit of your well-wishes.”

Suddenly, there is commotion near the entrance to the garden as someone tries to make their way through the crowd, past the chatting people and the servants.

“Is that not Victor’s servant?” Chris asks in surprise, and indeed, it is Cao Bin.

“It is,” Yuuri says with a frown, watching as Cao Bin fights his way through the crowd and is stopped by Mila, who has recognised him as well.

“Please, Mistress, I must speak to my master! It is urgent!”

“What is going on?” Victor has appeared from behind the large fountain, abandoning his cup on a low wall and grabbing Cao Bin by the shoulders. “Speak, my friend.”

Cao Bin is so out of breath that he needs a moment, and Yuuri realises that the man must have run the whole way. “The mistress is not well, Master,” he says, and Yuuri grips the edge of his seat hard as he watches Victor’s eyes widen. “She has been complaining about a headache and nausea to the girls this afternoon, and when they went to fetch her the usual medicine she collapsed and—”

“Has the doctor been informed?” Victor asks him, shaking Cao Bin lightly. “Has he been called for?!”

“Yes, Master,” Cao Bin says immediately. “He is with her in this very moment, but we thought it would be best to inform you right away, too.”

Victor nods. “Thank you, Cao Bin. I shall come with you immediately.”

Then, he turns and rushes past the shocked guests to the parasol where Yuuri is sitting. He skips the steps of the patio and lands before him with ease, taking his hand. “I must go,” he says and quickly kisses his forehead. “Chris, would you take care of Yuuri and bring him home in my stead?”

“Of course,” Chris says immediately and rises, just as Victor is about to leave, but Yuuri grasps his wrist.

“Victor,” he breathes, his eyes wide. “Is she alright?”

Victor pauses, his eyes so full of fear that it breaks Yuuri’s heart.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly, only for them to hear. “We will see.”

And with that, he lets go and runs after Cao Bin.

* * *

Chris takes Yuuri home in his own carriage, neither of them saying a word as they drive through the streets of Petersburg. Both of them are lost in their thoughts, for neither of them have ever seen Victor like this, have never seen such an expression on his face. They have never seen the shock, nor the pain, and it upsets them greatly.

Yuuri thinks back to the day of Evgenia’s departure to the summer estate. Even back then had Victor been worried about her, not out of love, but out of duty, for he is her husband and responsible for her. Even if they have never been in love with one another, Victor cares for her, and Yuuri would never dare to question that.

At the same time, he feels the ugly sting of jealousy deep inside his heart, and Yuuri wishes it were not so.

“Did Victor ever say something about her health?” Chris asks, pulling the omega out of his thoughts.

Yuuri shifts a little on his seat. “He was concerned for her health, yes. But she told him she was fine. He said she looked pale and skinny.”

“She has always been slim,” Chris murmurs, scratching his chin absentmindedly. “Have you ever met her?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “She never came to that part of the estate. And I never to hers.”

Chris hums in understanding. “It was probably better that way. Evgenia can be quite rude if she wants to be.”

For a while, they are quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts again.

“Do you know her?” Yuuri asks quietly when the silence becomes too grand, too overwhelming.

“Not very well, I’m afraid,” Chris replies almost apologetically. “She thought me a delinquent when we first met. She and Victor had been married for a year or so back then.” The man sighs and crosses his legs. “Even a blind person would have been able to see what a mismatch they were from the very beginning. Where Victor is fire, she is ice. Where he is merciful, she is stern. Her nature is so very different from Victor’s that it surprised me that he never spoke ill of her. Not even once.”

Yuuri finds that he is not surprised at all at this revelation – for how could he ever be surprised about any act of kindness, may it be big or small, that comes from his beloved? No, Yuuri cannot think of a single instance where Victor would have spoken ill of his wife, not even when he had been clearly frustrated by something she had said or done. Instead, he had only ever shown patience and compassion.

Yuuri loved him for it.

“He never even complained about their lack of children,” Chris continues. “Not even after all these years. And now look at you.” The alpha smiles, and Yuuri cannot help but touch his belly protectively. The child is still calm, as if it were asleep.

The carriage stops at the gate, where a servant is already waiting to take Yuuri inside.

“Thank you for taking me home,” Yuuri says to Chris, bowing his head in gratitude. “Please tell Phichit that I will pray for Chati.”

Chris nods. “I will. But I believe Victor will need your prayers more than my son.”

Yuuri swallows thickly, but there is nothing more to say. The moment he has climbed out of the carriage, he sees the pained, worried expression of the servant, and he knows that things must be more than serious.

Inside, they run into Cao Bin, whose face is as pale as snow, and who immediately bows as Yuuri approaches him and reaches out to take him by the arm.

“Please, tell me what you know,” Yuuri says softly and takes him to the bench in the hallway, nervously glancing at the stairs that lead up to Evgenia’s chambers as they sit down. “Is Victor with her?”

“The master is with the mistress, yes,” Cao Bin confirms. “She was not feeling well this afternoon, saying that she had a headache again and was feeling nauseous, so her girls went to fetch the usual medicine. A moment later they came running to the kitchen, saying that she had collapsed. Of course, we rushed ran to help her, and found her on the floor beside her bed. The doctor is with her now.”

Yuuri nods, nervously wringing his hands on his lap as he tries to process the information, possible explanations flooding his mind. Perhaps she had just not had enough water, he thought, or her monthlies had made her tired. Perhaps she had caught a simple cold. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

When he had felt like this the last time, suffering from a headache, feeling nauseous?

The answer shakes him to the core, and Yuuri closes his eyes out of sheer instinct.

No, it is very much unlikely, Yuuri decides as he takes a deep breath. Victor has not shared the bed with her for a long time, and he would not start doing so now.

But what if he has?

Before the thoughts and the fear threaten to overwhelm him, they hear footsteps on the stairs, and Yuuri and Cao Bin look up to see the doctor walking towards them, the very same that had once bandaged Yuuri’s ankle. The man is smiling tiredly, but he is smiling, and he approaches Yuuri, who immediately stands to greet him.

“Is she alright?” Yuuri asks, foregoing the greeting entirely, but the other man does not seem to mind. He sighs, and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat.

“You should go and look after him,” the old man says softly. “The senator needs someone at his side in these difficult times.”

Yuuri stares at him, his eyes growing wide as realisation hits him and slowly settles deep inside him, a cold shiver running down his spine.

“Is she…” Cao Bin asks hesitantly, speaking the words that Yuuri cannot find.

“She is sleeping,” the doctor explains. “I gave her a strong potion. But I fear that is all I can do.”

Yuuri is up the stairs before he has made the conscious decision to do so, ignoring the servant that calls after him, in his mind only Victor, always Victor.

In his heart, there is confusion, and there is pain, and above all, the crippling fear that Victor might fall apart – and that he, Yuuri, would be too late to pick up the pieces.

He stops, right before a door where Evgenia’s servants stand – young women, their faces unknown to Yuuri, but their expressions are pained and their eyes filled with tears. At Yuuri’s sight, they hold their breaths, glancing at the door, and Yuuri understands. Just as they have to wait, he has to wait, too.

What is going on inside neither of them can tell.

Yuuri takes a seat on the bench by the stairs, clasping his hands on his lap for a second. Then, unable to hold still, he wrings them nervously, then, runs a hand through his hair, his body shivering as he waits. Seconds turn into minutes, and Yuuri has to force himself to stay seated, to not open this door and see things that will most likely break his heart.

He is on his feet the moment the door opens and Victor emerges from the room. The girls rush inside, past their master and to their mistress, and the door falls shut again.

There is only Victor and Yuuri in the hallway now, and in the light of the torches, Yuuri sees that his beloved’s face is as pale as snow.

Wordlessly, Yuuri takes his hand and leads him home.

* * *

Victor hardly ever leaves her side.

For Yuuri, it is pain and torture. Not because Victor is not with him, but because he can see what it does to him whenever Victor comes back, if only to bathe and change into fresh clothing. They do not speak much, not even when Victor falls into his arms and buries his face in Yuuri’s shoulder, just to close his eyes for a few moments.

Words are not needed, even if Yuuri longs for them.

There is a growth inside her, Yuuri learns when the doctor comes again, this time to see him, too. A growth that could not be detected earlier, and that has drained her from the inside, taking away her energy, her spirits, and is now slowly taking away her life. There is nothing that they can do, except for giving her the strongest of potions to lessen the pain.

It is most likely the reason, the doctor tells Yuuri in a quiet moment, why she never had any children.

It only makes Yuuri thank the gods even more for the life that is growing inside him, and he cries in relief as the child moves, kicking right where his palm is resting, as if to say that everything is going to be fine.

There is, of course, very little that he can say or do to ease Victor’s pain. No longer does he go to the senate – and no one expects him there, either, for they all understand that some things are more important than politics or endless debates. He spends most of his time in Evgenia’s chamber, on the other side of the estate, away from Yuuri, who tries to be patient and not to miss him too much.

It is easier said than done, of course.

A rather peculiar atmosphere has descended onto them – an atmosphere of waiting, of praying, of endless hours that feel like eternities. Yuuri feels reminded of the days of his childhood, when his first mistress had been dying. It had just felt the same.

After that, everything had changed for him.

He learns from Cao Bin that no servants are permitted into her rooms anymore – not even her loyal maids, for Victor insists on doing everything himself, even if the majority of his time spent there consists of watching her sleep. It is a certain kind of repentance, Yuuri realises when he sees Victor one evening for just a moment, and gets to hold and kiss him before he leaves again, his face washed and dressed in fresh clothing. Repentance is keeping Victor going these days, even if he eats and sleeps little. Repentance is the force that keeps him at his wife’s side, even after all these years they have shared in loneliness, their marital bed abandoned and cold.

Victor blames himself for not seeing enough, for not doing enough. Yuuri knows that, and it breaks his heart.

Chris and Phichit hear the news and come to see them, finding only Yuuri sitting under a tree in the garden with Vicchan, with Victor nowhere to be seen. Their company is comforting, and Chris’ words wise and knowing. Just like Yuuri, he knows that Victor is trying to repent for the attention he never showed her, for not speaking up, for not taking care of her the way he should have. He tells Yuuri what the omega already knows – that Victor always tries to save everyone, entirely disregarding the fact that not everyone wishes to be saved. That learning this is a painful process that Victor has to yet go through, and that they can do nothing but sit and wait, and hold out their arms for him when the time to let go has come.

Yuuri has never been more terrified.

It is strange, what cruel things love can do to one’s heart.

But Victor needs saving, too – saving from himself, first and foremost, Yuuri realises when Victor falls into his arms in one of the rare moments he leaves Evgenia’s side. His arms come around him, holding onto him as if he were the only thing to keep him from drowning. His eyes, his beautiful, azure eyes are heavy with sadness, and he is so very, very tired.

“You have to sleep,” Yuuri whispers and steps back, cupping his cheeks and kissing him.

“I cannot,” Victor whispers, shaking his head. “I must not.”

But Victor can, and he must, for when he sinks into the bath and Yuuri comes to him to bring him something to eat, he finds his beloved asleep in the water. The hot water, and the tiredness, have both overpowered him, and Yuuri almost cries in relief. Carefully, he sets the plate down and calls for a servant to watch over him, to make sure he will not drown.

Only as he is back in his room, and has taken a seat by the balcony again, the door opens and Cao Bin comes in.

“Forgive me,” he says apologetically, his gaze searching for Victor. “But the doctor is about to leave.”

Yuuri hesitates, glancing at the curtain leading to the bath.

“I will be with him in a moment,” he then says, looking at Cao Bin again as he rises. “He is in the bath and rests. We should not disturb him.”

Cao Bin nods understandingly, waiting for Yuuri in the doorframe and together, they make their way to the other side of the house where the doctor is waiting at Evgenia’s door. He does not seem surprised to see Yuuri instead of Victor, even reaches out to take his hand in greeting.

It should not be so self-evident, Yuuri thinks with a pained heart, that he has long replaced her.

“Victor is resting at the moment, and I did not want to wake him,” Yuuri explains, nervously glancing at the closed door. “How… how is she?”

The doctor sighs. “I fear it will be only a matter of days now,” he says, and the blood in Yuuri’s veins turns to ice. “She is very weak. But she is not in pain, I have made sure of that.”

“Goodness…” Cao Bin whispers and closes his eyes for a moment.

Yuuri cannot blame him.

He swallows thickly, trying to keep his posture. “There is really… really nothing we can do? The senator, he… he will… if it is a matter of money…”

The doctor calmly touches Yuuri’s arm, shaking his head. “Your concern honours you. But I am afraid that not even a senator’s money or power could change the will of the gods now. You must be there for him when the time comes. Remind him of the future that awaits you.”

Out of sheer instinct, Yuuri touches his belly, the life that is growing inside him, safe and warm, protected from the cruelties of the world.

Their child is the future – Victor’s and his. There has never been a doubt to that, never been a doubt about Victor’s love for both of them, never a doubt about his plans for their future.

The future is still there, but at the moment, seeming so entirely out of reach as reality forces itself on them.

“I will come back tomorrow morning,” the doctor says softly. “Do not hesitate to call for me if need be.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri murmurs, and Cao Bin leaves with the man, taking him to the gates. And then, Yuuri is alone at Evgenia’s door, frightened and feeling incredibly lost.

The house is too quiet, he thinks, so quiet that the silence is deafening. It should be a house that is filled with laughter, a house full of children, full of life and love. Instead, the house is in a sort of slumber, waiting, the minutes passing in the speed of hours.

And with Victor finally sleeping, and no servants in sight, Yuuri knows what he has to do.

Evgenia’s room is not dark, not like Yuuri had expected it to be. The curtains have been pulled back instead, letting in the sunlight and its warmth, shining onto the bed on the other side of the room. There, Evgenia rests, her hair long and spread out over the cushions like threads of gold.

Only then does Yuuri realise that despite having danced for her, he has never seen her face, has never known what she looked like. He has never had any doubt that she was a beautiful woman, and even now, weak and ill, she is a beauty. Yuuri cannot help but wonder what she looked like on her wedding day – most likely the most beautiful of brides in the whole of Petersburg.

But now, she is thin, and her cheeks hollow, and her chest rises and falls slowly as she sleeps.

Yuuri sits down on the only chair beside her bed, the chair where he assumes Victor has been sitting so far, clasping his hands on his lap. Everything inside him screams that this is not a place where he should be, not now, not ever. But he pushes these voices aside, ignores them, and focuses on what he thinks, no, what he knows is right.

No one should be left alone in one’s final hours.

Not even the wife of the man he loves.

Suddenly, Evgenia stirs and coughs, and her eyes open just enough for her to see him. Yuuri freezes on the chair, holding his breath as he awaits her reaction, but she keeps coughing, and forces him to act. He reaches for the cup of water on the small table beside her bed and holds it to her lips, watching anxiously as she takes a few small sips and sinks back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

For a terribly long moment, she only lies there; her pale hand coming up to rest on her chest as she begins to shift. And then, her eyes find Yuuri’s, in them blatant and unconcealed curiosity that leaves Yuuri unable to speak.

“Now I do have to admit that I believe in many things,” she says quietly. “But to see my husband’s concubine at my deathbed is not one of them.”

“Mistress, I…. I came here because the—”

“Do drop the formalities,” Evgenia interrupts him calmly. “In here is no one besides ourselves and the gods.”

Yuuri swallows. “I… I came here because Victor is sleeping,” he says, a cold shiver running down his spine.

“And you wanted to see for yourself,” Evgenia concludes.

“N-No!” Yuuri exclaims and immediately shakes his head. “The doctor was here, and I spoke to him, and I thought it was not right to leave you here alone when Victor is resting, so I came here and…” He bites his lip, lowering his head.

Evgenia says nothing for a terribly long moment, and Yuuri wonders what must be going through her head. Of course, he cannot blame her for assuming the worst of him – after all, she has tolerated his presence in this house quietly, which is more than he would have ever dared to hope for. In truth, he has always feared the day he would meet her, the day he would have to face her.

But now that the day has come, it feels nothing like Yuuri would have imagined it.

“You are a rather peculiar omega,” Evgenia says, and her gaze softens. “Victor has always had a weakness for things that are peculiar. People, too. It makes him peculiar himself.” She coughs, grasping her chest, and Yuuri immediately reaches for the cup again to refill it with water. Evgenia accepts it quietly, taking a small sip, even murmuring a small thank you before she leans back again, taking deep, even breaths.

It should not be like this, Yuuri thinks. None of this should be.

“Victor is sleeping, yes?”

Yuuri looks up as Evgenia speaks again, meeting her gaze hesitantly. But in her eyes is no hatred, no ill will, none of the things Yuuri would have expected. Immediately, he feels guilty again of thinking of her that way – when in reality, he should be open-minded, and not judge her without knowing her.

Jealousy, he realises sadly, is a terrible force.

“Yes,” he replies softly. “He fell asleep in the bath.”

Evgenia chuckles. “That sounds very much like him. He often works himself to the bone. Only to fall asleep in the most ridiculous places and situations.”

It sounds to Yuuri as if there is more behind her words, but he is sure he will never get to hear it. She has her own history with Victor, one that is not meant for him.

“But he has changed,” Evgenia continues. “I have noticed that about him. He sleeps regularly. And eats, too. I assume I have to thank you for that.”

Yuuri blushes, nervously playing with the fabric of his gown. “I only want to see him happy.”

Evgenia laughs softly, but her laughter sounds sad, almost forlorn, and she brings her hand up to her face to wipe away a tear that threatens to fall from her eye. “Yes, yes,” she says quietly, looking anywhere but at Yuuri, who has no idea how to react.

But Evgenia takes the decision from him, murmuring something to herself in a language that Yuuri does not understand before he seems to pull herself together again, looking at him as if they were not the wife and concubine of the same man, but almost as if they were equals.

“What does it feel like?” She asks, glancing down at Yuuri’s belly. “To carry a child?”

Yuuri blinks in surprise at the question. No, he certainly had not expected to be asked that. But his answer comes out honest, his hand cradling his belly protectively, just as the child moves inside him.

“It feels unreal,” he admits quietly, looking down at his stomach. “Like nothing I have ever experienced before. Impossible to imagine.”

Evgenia says nothing to that, merely watching as Yuuri rubs the spot where the child has kicked him.

“He loves you,” she says then, her voice surprisingly soft. “He loves you the way he should have loved me. If our parents had gotten their will, that is. But we were too different for one another, from the very beginning. A most terrible mismatch. No matter how much we tried, the love never came.”

Yuuri swallows thickly, and something about his face must have caught Evgenia’s attention, for she huffs and clasps her hands on her lap.

“There is no need to pity me,” she murmurs. “Especially not now. I have been lucky enough with a husband like him. He let me live my life the way I wanted it to be. That is more than most can say about their husbands.”

For a moment, Yuuri wonders what would have had to change in order for Victor and Evgenia to be happy – to be truly in love with one another, as a husband and wife should be. But the fundamental truth is always there, and that is that when people are too different, then there cannot be a connection, especially not when the essential starting points were as unfortunate as theirs. Evgenia had been a young woman in a world in which her only job was to marry well. Victor had needed strong supporters, support that came in the shape of his father-in-law. Yuuri would have to be naïve to disregard that.

Their marriage had never been meant for love in the first place.

Then how could love possibly blossom under such circumstances?

Yuuri opens his mouth to say something, the words heavy on his tongue, as the door behind them opens and Victor comes in.

Victor stares first at Evgenia, then at Yuuri, clearly at a loss for words which, if the situation had been a different one, Yuuri would have surely found amusing.

But the speechlessness lasts only for a moment, and Victor closes the door and approaches the bed. “I certainly did not expect to see that,” he says, still wary of what he sees.

Evgenia takes a deep breath. “We have been merely talking,” she says as she turns her head on the pillow to look at her husband, her voice heavy, as if the act of speaking cost her a lot of strength. “Is that not so?”

“Yes,” Yuuri confirms softly and rises from the chair by the bed. “I… I think should leave you alone now.”

Evgenia says nothing, turning her gaze away as Victor reaches for his concubine’s hand, holding it just for a moment to squeeze it in ever-loving reassurance, and in his eyes a thousand questions. Yuuri squeezes back, and Victor is sure that if they had been alone, Yuuri would have even kissed him. But Yuuri lets go of his hand then, walking out of the bedroom and closing the door ever so quietly.

“Are you going to stand there for the rest of the day?” Evgenia asks with a sigh as Victor keeps looking at her, her words finally making him approach the chair that Yuuri has abandoned. The seat is still warm, he realises as he sits down.

“I… I cannot deny that I am surprised,” Victor says and reaches for the carafe, refilling the cup on the small table with water. “I had fallen asleep in the bath, and when I woke again, I was told that he was here.”

“He had no ill intentions, your little concubine,” Evgenia says, leaning back against the pillows. “He said he thought it would not be right to leave me alone here. A rather peculiar one you have there.”

Victor cannot help but smile a little. “Yes, that… that sounds like him.”

“My maids told first me that your little concubine was with child,” Evgenia says. “It suits him well. You must be very happy.”

Victor swallows. “I am, yes,” he says, for he knows no reason to lie, and neither does he want to.

“I am glad he is giving you what I could not. At least I know now why.”

“Evgenia…”

“If you have come here to pity me then please leave the room.” Her voice sounds tired – tired of him, but even more so, tired of the walls between them. Walls that they have both erected, and that have stood between them for as long as they can tell. But now, they are a hindrance, and Victor feels that they have no more use for them. If they ever had any.

“He is beautiful,” Evgenia says, watching him carefully. “But you would not fall for someone solely on the basis of beauty.”

Victor chuckles. “You know me well,” he says, smiling to himself. “Yuuri is so much more than a beautiful face. He is gentle and kind, and witty, and…” He pauses, realising what he is doing, right in front of his wife, and he closes his mouth. He should not speak before her like this about Yuuri, not in this moment, not ever.

It would not be right.

“He is good for you,” Evgenia decides. “You never knew what was good for you. That is why you befriended this delinquent Giacometti.”

“Are you still upset about that?”

“Yes, I am,” Evgenia huffs. “That man only ever brought trouble. But for some reason, you chose yourself a concubine that is actually good for you. You have colour in your face and you have gained weight.”

“I beg your pardon?”

But the tone has shifted, from earnest to almost playful, and Victor can feel the beginnings of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“You have to take good care of him, Victor,” Evgenia says quietly, “and never let him go.”

“I know,” Victor agrees softly and takes her hand into his own. Her skin is still soft, like the day he first touched her, when he took her hand on the day of their wedding.

“You know that you would not have been able to stop this illness of mine,” she says. “Even if you had loved me.”

Victor sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head, again and again, until he feels the tears of anger and despair burning in his eyes, and he lets out a joyless, desperate laugh.

“Oh, Zhenya,” he breathes and opens his eyes, looking at her in the way he always should have, he knows that now, with the attention and respect worthy of a woman like her. “Don’t you ever think that I never loved you.”

Evgenia squeezes his hand. “But your concubine has your heart. And therein lies the difference.”

* * *

The morning she dies, the flowers outside her window are in full bloom.

The funeral Victor arranges for her is one of the highest honours. The whole of Petersburg sends their condolences to the senator, both the rich and the poor, for even if they did not know his wife, they honour his name. And even she has been well-known, popular amongst Petersburg’s rich and wealthy, and her death leaves shock in the hearts of all.

Only those closest to him see what her loss does to Victor, to the senator that feels unable to stand tall and strong, whose only light in the dark is his concubine. Yuuri is always with him, right at his side, holding his hand as she is laid to rest, inside him settling the knowledge that he has just replaced her. But Yuuri would never say that out loud, not now, not ever, and especially not to Victor, whose hand is shaking even now that he holds it.

Their child is calm that day, as if out of respect for the sanctity of the moment.

The garden is Victor’s place of refuge, for he sits under the tree they planted in the year of their wedding even after the sun has set, and the servants have brought out torches to illuminate the way. Yuuri finds him there at night, fireflies surrounding the man he loves, as if trying to give him comfort with their presence alone.

Victor does not look up as Yuuri joins him, not even as Yuuri carefully touches his arm, and finds his skin cold.

“Are you not freezing?” He whispers.

Victor shakes his head, barely so, and Yuuri takes a seat beside him on the marble bench. It is a lovely part of the garden, he realises, one that he has never been to before because it had always been an unspoken rule that this part belonged to Victor’s wife.

Of course, his grief would take him here, to the place she loved the most.

“I will bring a sacrifice to the temple every month,” Victor says quietly, reaching out to touch a blossom of one of the bushes nearby. “For the rest of my life.”

Yuuri nods, watching as the petals come off under Victor’s touch. He knows that Victor will never stop feeling the guilt, will never stop searching for repentance, for the rest of his life. But he hopes, strongly so, that it will become easier for him.

Even if he has to make sacrifices of his own.

“When the mourning period is over,” Victor says quietly, “will you marry me?”

Yuuri swallows thickly, his hand nervously reaching out, brushing non-existent dirt from Victor’s robes. “We should not speak of this now,” he whispers. “If you ask me again in a year—”

“No, Yuuri,” Victor interrupts him with surprising gentleness, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. “I am asking you now.”

Yuuri shivers as Victor looks at him, properly for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He is an enigma – that much Yuuri has realised a long time ago. A man with many faces and a thousand mysteries; a man with strength and integrity, a man of justice, a man of honour. A man that is able to hate just as he is able to love. A man whose grief is so evident in his eyes that it breaks Yuuri’s heart, but there is also his love, his utter adoration and devotion that shines through it all, strengthened by a bond that can never be destroyed.

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand and brings it to his cheek, closing his eyes as he cradles it and turns his head to kiss Victor’s palm. “Even if you asked me only once in a thousand years,” he whispers, “my answer would always be yes.”

Victor leans closer, pressing the most tender of kisses to Yuuri’s forehead.

For now, it must be enough, Yuuri knows.

There are better times to come.


End file.
